


Help Me Find Myself

by Emls479



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Claustrophobia, Clones, Flashbacks, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Separations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emls479/pseuds/Emls479
Summary: Shiro returns from the astral plane to find that someone else has been living with the team, flying the black lion, and holding all of his memories in an identical body. Kuron has to figure out where he fits in the universe now, and if he can ever become a person that's not a Galra weapon or a copy of Shiro.





	1. The stress on my heart

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this AU fanart by edda-grenade and the rest is history! https://mooitsmekeith.tumblr.com/post/187188845785/edda-grenade-bc-two-2-sprawling-aus-werent 
> 
> This takes place directly after the season 6 finale, but the Castle of Lions didn't get destroyed (because I said so, dang it!)

Nothing felt right anymore.

Every bite of Hunk's delicious cooking was bland and thick. Pidge's eyes were constantly watching, as if scanning him for defective coding. Lance's quick banter raced through his mind before he could catch hold of it. Keith was distant and nervous, the angry scar across his cheek a constant reminder of his latest failure.

And Shiro...

The black paladin could hardly look at him, let alone hold a conversation that lasted more than two minutes. Every time their eyes met, all he could see was conflict, judgement, and bone-deep fear. Shiro tried to hide these feelings but... he knew him better than anyone else after all. 

And now he didn't even know what his own name was.

He rolled the thought over and over like a heavy stone, pacing his usual route through the darkened castle halls. The uniform hallways greeted him with their cold familiarity. The monotonous scenery usually calmed him down, emptying his head of the nightmares, stress, and worries of the day. But now he almost wished they were gaudy and distracting. Anything to pull him out of his own mind.

But he kept walking the path, confronting the thoughts that had been building up like snow. This castle, the paladins, even his own past... none of it truly belonged to him. He was just a stand-by, a passenger in someone else's story. In Shiro's story. 

A sick, empty feeling flooded his stomach as the familiar thought struck him. 

There was a time when was useful to the team. For one reason or another, the black lion had allowed him to pilot her. He had been able to form Voltron, plan attacks, make allies. Even if it was a stolen life, it was something good that he had contributed to the world. 

But what was there now?

Shiro was back. The original paladins could take their places as defenders of the universe. They were the real heroes, the real pilots chosen by the lions. He didn't have a place in this team anymore and everyone knew it. He couldn't train them. He couldn't lead them. He couldn't be a support, a genius, an inventor, or anything they needed!

And after attacking Keith, after leaving that horrible scar... how could they trust him to help anyway?

He would always be a threat, no matter what Allura's magic or Pidge's tests claimed. His mind and body were created for the single purpose of destroying the team. He was a drain on their emotions, a source of stress, and a burden to the reformed team. 

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as the realization hit him. 

He didn't belong here. He never had.

* * *

Coran walked briskly down the dim castle halls, tired eyes alert. 

He needed to find Shiro's clone. The boy had always had a habit of pacing the castle at night, but he usually had a predictable route. Coran was used to hearing him walk past at a certain hour, but he was late tonight. Too late.

Worry stirred in the back of his mind as he peered down dark hallways and empty rooms. 

Was he checking in on Pidge's lab perhaps? Or taking a detour down to the hangars? The medbay, training deck, and lounge were also possibilities. 

_Or the airlock, _a horrible voice in his mind whispered. 

Coran shook the thought away, quickening his pace as he headed for the observation deck. Surely things hadn't gotten that bad... Adjusting had certainly been difficult, but the team was doing their best. And there was no reason for the boy to blame himself for his loss of control. 

He rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, ears pricked toward a heartbreaking noise.

The unmistakable sounds of quiet crying were echoing from the open door of the observation deck. Coran carefully stepped closer. As he reached the doorway, he got a full view of the room and the single huddled figure on the floor. 

The boy was still dressed in his day clothes despite the late hour. His remaining arm was clutching the severed stump of his prosthetic, fingers slipping across the cold metal. Quiet sniffles and gasps burst free every few seconds and even from a distance, Coran could see him trembling. 

For a long moment, Coran couldn't move.

He had seen Shiro and his clone when they were upset. They were sensitive people that felt the pain and suffering of the galactic war as much as anyone. When friends and allies were lost, they tended to withdraw into themselves and work twice as hard to overcome their perceived weaknesses. That level of compassion and responsibility was a combined strength and weakness that the two paladins shared. 

But Coran had never seen the black paladin looking so small, so scared, so sad. 

He stepped onto the observation deck and approached the crying boy. He placed a hand on one of his shaking shoulders and muttered,

"Easy, easy does it now. It's just your old pal Coran."

The clone startled violently beneath his touch, almost tipping over with his imbalanced arms. Coran grabbed his arm more firmly and steadied him. Before the boy could react, Coran settled down on the floor next to him and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"C-Coran I didn't mean-" he hiccuped.

"I know, I know. You probably came out here to be alone, didn't you?"

The boy shook his head, trying to wipe away the tears that were still flowing freely.

"No it's just... I couldn't sleep i-is all."

"Mmmm" Coran hummed quietly. "That's the problem with you black paladins. Always keeping your troubles to yourselves, always afraid to let yourselves be vulnerable."

"I'm not a paladin," he whispered.

"Oh, of course, you're right. It must have been somebody else who bonded with the black lion. It was definitely another person who called out to her across empty galaxies. Definitely couldn't have been you who saved all those planets and freed all those people. Silly me."

He squeezed the boy's shoulder and tried to read the expression on his tear-stained face. 

"But really my boy," he went on, dropping his sing-song tone. "Why are you out here so late? Something troubling you?"

Much to Coran's surprise, the clone burst into choked, incredulous laughter.

"Something troubling me? C-Coran, _everything_ is troubling me!"

He curled in on himself, shaking with hysterical laughter and a fresh wave of tears. 

"I-I'm not the person I thought I was. I'm not from Earth, I'm n-not a human being. My memories are all fake and nobody knows who I'm s-supposed to be or what I'm supposed to do! I don't... I don't..."

His voice trailed off until it was barely audible. 

"I don't even have a name."

Coran's heart tightened at the admission. Guilt surged up a moment later as he realized that what he said was true. He simply thought of the boy as Shiro, a clone, or one of the black paladins. Like he didn't have a real, distinct identity of his own. 

"Well now... that won't do at all. Every team member needs a name, otherwise we'd fall into chaos! What should it be then?"

The clone took several deep, shuddering breaths before he looked up again. Coran's hopeful attempt to cheer him up didn't seem to be working at all. The panicked tears had stopped, but now he just looked more dejected than ever. His grey eyes were red and lined with exhaustion. In this state, he looked young and wounded, curled on the cold floor without even picking one of the empty paladin chairs. Before Coran could start rattling off potential names, the boy said clearly,

"I'm not part of the team. I never really was."

Coran's mouth dropped open.

"But- but of course you were- I mean are! You all spent so much time bonding together, fighting alongside one another. I know adjusting to these changes has been difficult for everyone, but we all know that you're friends! Ask any one of them and they'll tell you-"

"Coran," the boy interrupted firmly.

"You know that's not true. They thought I was Shiro. I thought I was Shiro. Every interaction we had was based on that assumption."

He leaned away from Coran's protective grip and buried his head in his arms, trying to control his shaky breathing.

"I know... I know that the others don't hate me. They're doing their best to cope and are doing a good job."

Coran paused, sensing a terrible follow-up to this compliment. He didn't have to wait long before the clone said,

"But I just feel like I can't stay here any more. Everything is so familiar but so... wrong. Every second of every day I have to remember that my existence is a lie and a threat from the Galra. Even if I never lose control again, that fear is never going to leave me while I'm here. I know that."

A great, swelling sadness washed over Coran as he absorbed these words. And the worst part was, it made perfect sense. The boy was living in an identical body to the black paladin, surrounded by people whose allegiances were split between the two. He must feel guilty when the others paid attention to him, and lost when they didn't. Their attention and their neglect were both painful reminders of what he was and what he was not.

So he didn't try to argue. He simply placed his hand on the boy's head and ran his fingers through his slowly lengthening hair. 

"I am sorry my boy," he said after a long moment of silence. 

"Everyone has been so caught up in their own pain, no one has noticed that you are hurting worst of all. You will always, always be welcome in the castle. But if you truly feel that you cannot heal here, I will happily make other arrangements."

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They just stared out the large window at the slowly passing stars. 

"Where else can I go?" the boy finally asked. 


	2. World Seems to Have Some Vacancy

Keith hesitated outside the closed door, hand hovering over the access pad. He knew it would open at the faintest touch, the security of the room having been programmed to trust him with unfiltered access. Doubts and anxiety welled up in him as he lingered there.

He knew, logically, that he shouldn't be afraid of the clone. The thing that had attacked him had been Haggar's puppet, a mindless beast that was designed to tear the paladins apart. Since she had been purged from the clone's mind and his prosthetic arm had been severed, there shouldn't be any threat. But the memory of those eyes - Shiro's eyes- still haunted him. Full of so much hatred and bloodlust...

He gritted his teeth and pressed down on the access pad, forcing the memories to the back of his mind. He had a job to do.

The door slid open, revealing the clone sitting at his desk. He turned to face the door as Keith entered and they made eye contact for an awkward moment. The clone quickly got to his feet, datapad clutched in his remaining hand. 

"Hello Keith. Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. Coran just told me that you were interested in learning more about the Blade of Marmora? He wouldn't tell me details though."

"Oh right. Do you want to sit down?"

He gestured, somewhat awkwardly, to the empty desk chair. Keith perched on the chair as the clone went over to sit on the bed. After a moment of thought, he said,

"I was just wondering if they- I mean the kind of positions the Blade has in their organization. I've spoken with Kolivan multiple times, but we only ever discussed battle tactics or their espionage units. But that can't be everything that they do. With an organization as broad and well-networked as theirs, I figured there must always be roles to fill."

Keith looked up at him, a suspicion brewing in the back of his mind. 

"What brought this up?" he asked. 

The clone's fingers fidgeted a bit on the edge of the datapad. 

"I've been... thinking about the best way to help the team and the war effort. With Shiro back, I feel like I could be more useful somewhere else. The Blade has been an incredible help to us and I was hoping to return the favor."

"You're leaving?" Keith clarified, a strange numbness washing through him. 

"If there's a place for me at the Blade then... yes. I still want to help the team, but there's not much for me to do anymore. And anyway-" he gave a wry smile, "You should all be focusing on returning to Earth and readjusting to your lions. I think Red has been missing you."

A strange conflict of emotions flared up in Keith's chest. 

"But don't you want to come back to Earth too? We might need all the help we can get. You're a great fighter and-"

He cut off, suddenly realizing what he was saying. This clone had never been to Earth in the first place. He wouldn't know anyone there and would only have the connections that Shiro did. And as for his fighting... his gaze lingered on the stump of the prosthetic arm. 

The clone seemed to know what he was thinking. 

"Thanks Keith. But things are complicated for all of us right now. I feel like I can be more useful to the team and to the war if I'm somewhere else. It'll just be too confusing for everyone if I stay. Besides, with you going back to Earth, we'll need a diplomat within the Blade of Marmora. So do you know of anywhere they might need help? I want to know the structure of their organization before I talk to Kolivan about this."

Keith wavered for another moment, trying to decide how he felt about this change. But the clone was leaning forward, eyes barely hiding his desperation for a place to belong. He had been trying to act normal for the last week, but Keith knew Shiro- and him- better than that. He recognized the anxious tension in his body and the careful way he spoke to everyone. He probably hadn't been able to fully relax since Shiro had returned. And that feeling wouldn't go away if he was forced to stay with them. 

"I... I only ever worked as an agent. If you're not Galra, or at least part Galra, I don't think you'll be approved to fight with the strike forces. But there are a lot of other posts in the Blade, especially now that they're coordinating with the coalition. Something I heard them talk about a lot was the archives and storage facilities. They take in a massive amount of data and contraband that needs to be managed. If you want to work with them, that's probably where you'll end up."

Keith finished with an apologetic tone, well aware that this solution would remove the clone from the main war. He wouldn't be able to interact with leaders as often and would be surrounded by unfamiliar items, cultures, and information. But as he glanced up at the clone, he was shocked by the expression on his face. 

The clone's eyes were sparkling, his body language radiating enthusiasm. 

"That sounds perfect. And you really think they'll have an open position?"

Keith nodded, still shaken by this unexpected reaction. 

"It's not... I mean it's not the most influential position," he clarified. "The archivists are usually posted at pretty secluded bases."

"I don't need to be influential. I just need to be useful," the clone chuckled. "Thank you Keith. I'll set up an appointment to discuss this with Kolivan as soon as I can."

Keith got to his feet, sensing that the conversation was ending. As the door slid open, he lingered in the doorway. He turned back to face the clone and asked,

"Do the others know? That you're planning to leave?"

"Coran does. Once everything is set up with Kolivan, I'll tell the others."

Keith turned away and muttered,

"Okay. Just don't leave without saying goodbye."

Before the clone could respond, he hurried down the hall, barely noticing the sound of the door closing behind him. 


End file.
